Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 14, 1928 — page 17: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

RED The girl stopped short, glanced around with a look of incredulity upon her expressive countenance, and then her eyes rested upon a spectacle which very nearly paralyzed her. She was looking at a dazzling white counter occupying four feet of the frontage of an old building, and be- hind the counter stood a well-built, red-headed man in a spotless white suit. In his right hand he held a mega- phone, and through it he bellowed his ballyhoo. With his left hand he rolled very fat sausages upon a hot griddle. A huge sign above his head read “Red Hot Cops,” and, in parenthesis, “ Belgian Police Dogs.” | Behind him was a glittering coffee tank, and the counter ran into the building a distance of six feet. “ Be a cannibal. Eat a cop,” he bel- lowed. ‘“ Nobody likes policemen. Hurry up, folks. I’m almost sold out.” Half a dozen persons stood on the sidewalk devouring the sandwiches, a dozen more were piled inside the tiny shop, likewise munching frankfurters and rolls, and those who did not stop were smiling at the sign and the chat- ter of the frankfurter man, and men- tally determining to come back when they were hungry. But Nora was gazing at the man with the megaphone, and a broad smile was on her face. She approached the stand; the owner was bellowing over her head. “Tester Lucus!’’ she exclaimed. Lester dropped his megaphone, and his face grew as red as his hair. His chatter broke off in the middle, and he looked at her with shamed eyes. “Hello, Nora,” he muttered. “ So this is what I’ve come to!” “Give me a hot cop,” commanded Nora. “ How much?” Lester mechanically lifted a frank- furter, slit a roll, and plastered both with German mustard. “TPs on me,” he mumbled. “Don’t be silly. What would your employer say?” HOT. 155 “T’d have you know,” declared Les- ter with something of his old manner, “’m in business for myself.” Her eyes grew round, but she said nothing; instead, took a bite of the sandwich. “* Delicious,” she declared. 3 “How much?” demanded a man who had finished. . “Twenty cents,” said the business man. “How do you get that way? I can buy ’em anywhere for ten cents.” “Not this kind of a frankfurter, not a fresh hot roll and creamy butter. You never tasted a sandwich like that in your life,” retorted Lester. “You're right—I haven’t,” admit- ted the customer. “ By heck, it’s worth twenty cents.”’ Nora finished her roll. “ I’ve got to go now,” she said. “ Lester, come out and see me to-night?” “Do you mean it?” “T certainly do.” “Gee,” he exclaimed, “I never thought you’d speak to me again!” “You don’t know me very well. The hot cop was perfectly lovely,” she smiled, then darted away. Lester lifted his megaphone and be- gan again his ballyhoo. He drew a policeman whose sandwich he franked. “You got a gall, calling ’em cops,” declared the officer. “It’s a good line, though.” “Come around again when you're hungry. No charge to the profession,” grinned the merchant. Business was rushing, but about ten thirty it slackened, and Lester removed the cook’s cap from his fevered brow and took count of stock. He had laid in a couple of hundred sausages, which he supposed would be an ample supply for the first day, and only a dozen were left. He was almost out of rolls and he needed to make fresh coffee. Relying upon the innate honesty of people, he left his stand unguarded and went to a telephone, where he ordered a fresh (e) VOOKS AMG (EO)